


A Miscalculated Leap

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Post-Episode: s01e06 FZZT, Season 1, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: After the whole harrowing ordeal with the Chitauri virus, Jemma goes to Fitz's bunk to talk to him to thank him for his role in saving her life. But things take a turn that she didn't quite expect and then they get... heated. A canon-divergent fic where Fitz and Jemma both get what they deserved.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 34
Kudos: 118





	A Miscalculated Leap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LibbyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/gifts).



> Hi guys! I wrote this based off a smut fic meme prompt from LibbyWeasley, who asked for "if we get caught, I'm blaming you." I decided to set it directly post F.Z.Z.T. to give Fitz and Jemma a, well, happy ending to remember. I hope this is what you wanted, Libby, and I hope everyone enjoys!

“I was going to do it, you know,” Fitz said, twisting his fingers together in his lap. “I had the antiserum, the chute, everything—”

“I know you were,” Jemma reassured him.

“I just couldn’t get the straps on,” he added.

She started to lay a hand on his arm to stop his rambling, soothe him, _something_ , but caught herself. “Fitz, please—”

At the end of everything, after surviving the worst day of her life, she’d finally made it to Fitz’s bunk to talk to him. To apologize, perhaps, for knocking him out and making him live through the trauma of seeing her jump. She would do all of it all over again in a heartbeat; she’d truly believed she was doing the only thing possible to save Fitz and the team. She’d known Fitz would never give up on her, so she’d tried to save him, along with everyone else, from herself. Finding out it had all been needless and the serum had in fact worked had put a certain damper on her righteousness. She was thankful to be alive, of course she was, but it was hard to look Fitz in the face when she knew there’d been no reason to hurt him.

He’d been almost shy ever since she’d come to his bunk, staring at his hands or his lap or the floor as they spoke, anywhere but at her, and his words were hesitant. Almost like he couldn’t believe she was really there. Jemma couldn’t blame him. She was still half in disbelief that she was still alive herself. But she also wondered if it had to do with the words they’d exchanged before their epiphany regarding the antiserum, where they’d come so close to acknowledging what was between them after years of it going unsaid.

_You’ve been beside me the whole damn time._

It was true. She hadn’t been without him for longer than a week or two since the moment they’d first become friends at sixteen. They’d done everything together, from school and work down to sharing an apartment. Where would she be without Fitz? Nowhere, certainly not now. He was her best friend in the world and he’d saved her life today, something she was currently trying to get him to understand with little success.

“And maybe I couldn’t have done the whole James Bond-in-midair type thing,” he was saying.

“Fitz, shut up!” she said, reaching out for him again but pulling back at the last second, curling her hands into fists beneath her chin. He finally went quiet, hugging the pillow he had in his lap a little tighter and staring straight ahead. She took a deep breath. “Ward did an amazing thing, yes,” she continued, “but it wasn’t Ward by my side in that lab searching for a cure. It wasn’t Ward giving me hope when I had none. It was _you_.” She nudged him gently with her elbow. “You’re the hero.”

Fitz finally looked at her, a small, hopeful look on his face. “Yeah?”

Jemma smiled back. “Yeah.” Her heart filled with an inexpressible warmth as she again recalled everything he had done for her. “Thank you.”

Fitz just nodded and looked back to his lap. Oh, dear—she still hadn’t convinced him he deserved all the praise, had she? It felt uncharacteristic; he was usually very confident in his abilities. Her affection swelling for him, she decided an extra little thank-you and fluff to his esteem was in order. She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

But Fitz turned back to her at the same time, and her face collided with his, their lips and noses smashing inelegantly together. “Oh!” she exclaimed, just as Fitz jerked back from her with a yelp.

“Sorry!” he cried, his cheeks flushing. “Shite, sorry, I, um, I didn’t mean to—”

Jemma had lifted a hand to her lips, which were tingling. She’d just kissed Fitz. Sort of. Technically, on accident. If you could call that clumsy unintended collision of mouths a kiss, but… their lips _had_ touched and now she felt very funny. Warm all over, jolted by an electric shock. It wasn’t that she’d never given thought to kissing Fitz before—she had—but it had been a very long time. Certainly not since they’d been at SciOps. But now, one little touch and she was burning with the desire to kiss him properly.

“It’s alright,” she managed, putting a hand out on Fitz’s knee.

If anything, he just quailed even more. “It was an accident—”

“Fitz, it’s fine—”

“I would never—”

“ _Please_ —”

They both stopped, staring wide-eyed at each other. Fitz’s lips were parted, like he wanted to keep protesting, and Jemma couldn’t help but look at them. Had they always looked so soft and kissable? So enticing? Realizing she was getting a bit inside her own head, she blinked and looked up, only to see Fitz’s eyes darting back up as well. Had he been staring at her mouth, too—?

“Fitz…” she whispered.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Yeah?”

Jemma wasn’t sure what she actually wanted to say. Just that she wanted to be close to him. Maybe she was finally feeling her adrenaline crash after the events of the day, because all she felt in its place was a crackling tension between them and the overwhelming need to feel alive. To be _reminded_ that she was alive, present, and that it was all thanks to Fitz.

Seeing the way he was still staring back at her, the blue of his irises visibly darkened, maybe he felt the same. She knew the whole experience had rattled him, too. Maybe it had awakened the same thoughts and feelings in him as it had in her—that he was her everything, her entire world, and now she wanted to know what would happen next.

“Fitz,” she whispered again, and he swallowed, but before he could say anything, Jemma reached up to frame his face with her hands and pull him forward into a light, careful kiss.

The first thing she registered was softness and warmth. Fitz’s lips felt perfect properly set against hers, a light pressure that sent tingles of delight falling down her spine, and she felt like she could live in this moment forever. She was actually kissing Fitz, and it wasn’t weird or strange or awkward. It was _right_.

Jemma gently broke the kiss, thinking of pulling away and asking if that had been alright, but Fitz inhaled and surged forward to capture her lips again, fitting his against hers in an even firmer kiss. A sharp flash of surprise washed through her before she moved to respond in kind, her hands going to his shoulders while Fitz’s found her waist, pulling her forward despite the pillow and their knees caught between them.

Then they were trading increasingly hot, messy, almost desperate kisses, the tension between them snapping to coalesce into something needy, fraught, and urgent. This was exactly what Jemma had wanted, but still—she never could have imagined that Fitz would kiss her like this, with such intensity, such passion, waking up desire within her as easily as if he’d set a lit match to gasoline.

In full view of anyone who might happen to walk through the bunk area.

It was a faint thought that came from the small part of her mind that wasn’t wholly occupied with cataloguing Fitz’s taste: the door to his bunk was wide open, meaning anyone on the team could find them snogging like randy teenagers. She wouldn’t be ashamed of it, but it would certainly create awkward questions for everyone involved and a possible Section 17 citation for her and Fitz.

With great difficulty, Jemma managed to break the kiss. “Fitz, wait—”

He instantly sat back, pulling his hands away like she’d burned him. “Right, no, sorry,” he panted in a rush, his chest heaving. “Didn’t meant to—”

Jemma placed a quelling hand over his. “It’s just, the door is open.” She nodded at it.

Fitz blinked, then looked to the door in question, swallowing thickly. “Right. Yeah. So it is.”

He didn’t make any move to get up, so after a moment Jemma stood on unsteady legs and stepped forward to slide the door shut. She locked it for good measure, then turned back to Fitz. He was looking up at her with a faintly poleaxed expression, but there was something else lurking in his eyes, too. She recognized it: _want_. It made her shiver with longing. Fitz wanted her.

Before she could even think, Jemma pushed his pillow to the side and dropped into his lap, straddling him. Fitz met her halfway, his arms coming around her as their mouths met in another fierce kiss. He groaned as she slanted his mouth open to deepen it, and the velvet slide of his tongue against hers made her tremble with sheer lust.

This was feeling alive, Jemma decided. All but wrapped around her best friend, closer than she’d ever been before, kissing him like her life depended on it. The rush she was getting from meeting him kiss for kiss, her hands in his hair as his snuck up the back of her shirt, his palms splayed wide and warm on her skin, was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She felt bright, hypersensitive, primed for his touch. If she’d known kissing Fitz would be like this, she would have tried it ages ago.

His hands moved down to her hips and pulled her forward in his lap, bringing her against what was unmistakably his growing erection. Jemma’s breath caught at the evidence that Fitz was just as turned on as she was, and rolled her hips down against the bulge in his jeans; he groaned into her mouth and urged her to repeat the motion again with his hands.

“Shh,” Jemma admonished him, breaking their kiss but staying close enough to press her forehead to his. “We have to keep quiet or else someone will hear us.”

Fitz made an aggrieved noise. “How am I supposed to stay quiet when you’re in my lap like a bloody goddess—”

“ _Fitz_ ,” she insisted, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He grumbled and caught her lips in a proper kiss, his hands tight on her hips. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

Jemma pulled back again. “Fitz!” she hissed. “I’m not the one who’s _moaning_ —”

“Yeah, well, you kissed me first,” he shot back, and slipped a hand around her neck to pull her forward into another scorching kiss.

If he’d meant to shut her up, it did the trick. She couldn’t even be bothered to chastise him for the soft noise he made as their mouths met, because she’d made one, too. Kissing him just felt so _good_. She reached up to pull at his tie, tugging the knot loose so she could take it off and drop it to the floor. Then she started on the buttons of his shirt, eager to strip him bare and see him, to feel his skin beneath her palms.

She made it halfway down before Fitz, who was seemingly preoccupied with kissing her thoroughly and mapping out the inside of her mouth, realized what she was doing. He fumbled to undo the buttons on her shirt as well, going from the bottom up, but his hands were shaking and his fingers kept slipping.

Jemma finished first, slipping her hands beneath the shoulders of his shirt and pushing it down his arms. Fitz abandoned what he was doing long enough to help her take it the rest of the way off without breaking their kisses, and she knew a moment of great satisfaction when it joined his tie on the floor behind him. Then she pressed her hands flat to his chest as his went back to work on her shirt, reveling in how warm he was, at the firm solidity of him with just the right amount of give, at the sparse dusting of hair across his pale skin. He was _perfect_ and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on the rest of him.

Fitz succeeded in getting the rest of her shirt open and hurried to tug it off her, letting it flutter to the ground as well. He sucked in a deep breath at seeing her breasts and the pale blue cotton bra she was wearing, but his arms immediately went around her to fumble with the clasp. He was in a hurry.

A few seconds and several muttered curses later he had it undone and tossed to the pile of clothes on the floor. Fitz’s eyes were wide and round as he took in her bare breasts, his irises impossibly dark, and she swore she felt his cock twitch against the seam of her jeans.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, and stretched up to kiss her again as he palmed both of her breasts. Jemma mewled softly against his lips, both from the rough coarseness of his voice and how warm his hands were, like twin brands on her skin. He kneaded her as they kissed, gently at first and then with growing confidence, and when his thumbs brushed over her sensitive nipples she hummed again, feeling them stiffen into hard little points.

They stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, trading kisses while their hands explored each other’s bodies. Jemma marveled at the feeling of his curls slipping through her fingers, the rasp of his day-old stubble, the width of his shoulders. She thrilled at the way he touched her, the span of his hands over her ribs and across her back, covering her breasts, and the urgency she could feel in his grasp—he couldn’t get enough of her. She felt the same way about him. She felt drunk off the taste of him, dizzy and light-headed with pleasure, barely able to contain her anticipation of how he might touch her next.

She was grinding slowly against him again, following the guidance of his hands on her hips to rub herself along the hard line of his cock as they kissed, when Fitz made a sudden, choked noise. Then he was getting his arms looped beneath her thighs and twisting to clumsily deposit her on the bed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his chest heaving, bending to pull her legs up onto the mattress. “Just—if you keep that up, I’m—uh, I’m going to embarrass myself.”

His cheeks were flushed pink, Jemma thought he was adorable. Sexy, but adorable at the same time. She moved to toe off her shoes as Fitz leaned down to kiss her again, but stopped when he pulled up short.

“Um, I don’t have anything,” he whispered, sounding a little panicked. His eyes darted around his bunk. “I mean—I don’t have a condom.”

The brief anxiety Jemma had felt over thinking that perhaps Fitz was getting cold feet melted away. “It’s alright,” she whispered back, kicking her shoes to the floor. They hit with a quiet _thunk_. “I have an IUD.”

Fitz’s nose scrunched up. “You do?”

She nodded. “It was a requirement of going into the field.”

He blinked. “Oh. Right. Well, yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He looked back at her. “But good, because…”

Jemma smiled at him. “Come here.”

Fitz obeyed immediately, stepping forward to cup her cheek and lean down to kiss her. It was surprisingly gentle given the heat of everything that had transpired so far between them, and it made Jemma’s heart go soft, but she hadn’t forgotten her goal. She wanted to see Fitz, all of him, and she wanted to be with him and remind herself that she was still alive, all thanks to him.

To that order, she reached out to fumble for his belt. Fitz inhaled as she pulled the strap through the buckle, and he groaned quietly when her fingers undid the snap button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper. She felt him shifting to toe off his own shoes without breaking their kiss, and decided not to waste anymore time. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of both his jeans and his boxer-briefs and pulled them down.

Fitz was forced to break away to get the rest of his clothes off, and he kept his head down as he did. Jemma didn’t mind. It gave her the opportunity to drink her fill of him as she started taking off her own jeans. He was slim, certainly not built like Ward—she didn’t think he ever would be—but she didn’t want him to be. There was a little bit of definition to his arms and chest from carrying equipment around the lab and in the field, contrasted with a touch of softness around his middle. She knew Fitz was self-conscious about it, but she found it to be very appealing. Not as appealing as she found his arse, though: pert and firm and delectable to go along with his cock. He had nothing to be ashamed of there, either. He looked to be just the right size to make her see stars, and there was a bead of precome glistening on the tip. Her hands were itching to get ahold of him.

He caught her staring and his cheeks flushed, but then he looked to see her shimmying her jeans and knickers down her legs and his jaw dropped slightly. He rushed to pull his socks off as she pushed her jeans and knickers off the bed, followed by her own socks, and then they were both naked in front of each other.

Fitz moved to crawl onto the bed over her, his face glowing with stunned awe, and then he was slanting her mouth open into a deep kiss as he lowered his body onto hers. Jemma whimpered into his mouth at the rush of pleasure she got simply from her skin meeting his, the crush of her breasts against his chest and his hips settling between her thighs, the head of his cock nudging at her slick folds. Fitz let out a low note in response, his hands sliding up to curl around her shoulders, and he rocked experimentally into her.

It pushed the shaft of his cock up through her folds, and they both bit off louder moans, breaking their kiss and leaning their foreheads together as they moved slowly against each other. Fitz shifted to press open-mouthed kisses down her neck, holding tighter to her shoulders as he continued to rut against her. For Jemma it was an almost cruel tease, the head of his cock brushing over her clit sending sparks skittering along her nerves and making her want to beg for more. She was already so keyed up, wanting him as badly as she did. She couldn’t take much more foreplay.

“Fitz,” she whispered, “ _please_.”

He paused in the midst of kissing along her collarbone, then lifted his face to hers. Their noses bumped as he exhaled and nodded. "Right," he whispered back, and brushed a kiss over her lips. "Okay."

Then he reached down to fist his cock and guide it to her entrance. He fumbled just enough that Jemma wondered if this was his first time, but then he was pushing into her and all thoughts fled from her mind.

She bit her lip hard to keep from moaning, but a small sound still caught in the back of her throat as Fitz buried himself in her. The way he stretched her out and filled her up was perfect, hitting all of her sensitive spots and making her wonder once again why they hadn't done this sooner. He felt tailor-made for her.

Fitz, meanwhile, had smashed his face into her neck as their hips met and was muttering something unintelligible. Then he pressed a kiss there, and another, and worked his way up across her cheek until he found her mouth.

"Jemma," he mumbled between kisses, his voice reverent. "You feel—fuck, I need to—"

"It's okay," Jemma whispered against his lips, wrapping her arms around him and drawing her knees up. " _Please_."

He started a rhythm, slow at first but gaining speed as he found more confidence, until he was practically railing her into the mattress. Jemma could barely breathe, she was so delighted, so swept away by passion and pleasure and desire, unable to think beyond the fact that Fitz was taking her hard and fast and it was exactly what she needed. She’d never felt more alive than she did in this moment, in Fitz’s arms, losing herself to him completely.

It was almost impossible to stay quiet; Jemma could hold back her moans but she was gasping for air, her breath hitching almost every time Fitz thrust hard into her. He had his face buried in her shoulder, his ragged breathing loud in her ear, and she wondered if he was struggling, too. It was strange, almost, having sex as quietly as possible, because she wanted feedback—she wanted to know if it was as good for him as it was for her—but then Fitz turned his face to press two sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to her cheek, and it was better than any words could be. Maybe they didn’t need words to communicate, even for this. He could kiss her, touch her, and she would _know_.

“Fitz,” she whispered, turning her face into his. “Fitz, I’m—I’m so close—”

He’d quickly brought her right to the edge, the strength and depth of his thrusts hitting something delicious inside her that really did make her see stars, pleasure coiling in her core until she was strung tight, ready to snap. Her fingers dug into his back as she clung to him, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust, desperately chasing her release.

Fitz nipped at her shoulder, then slipped his hands beneath her back to hold her closer, changing his angle slightly. The adjustment made her gasp sharply and him groan, the sound muffled against her neck. “Come on, Jemma,” he said, lifting his face to her cheek again. His voice was raw and strained. “I’ve got you. _Fuck_ , Jemma. Come on. Let go.”

Something about the way he sounded saying her given name combined with the new angle he’d taken did it for her, and Jemma swallowed a sharp cry as she came, her body going tense around him before dissolving into waves of shivers as pleasure coursed through her. Fitz gave a few more hard thrusts before his movements turned jerky and he pressed his face into her neck again, muffling a hoarse shout as he found his release. Then he went still, buried to the hilt inside her.

For a long moment there wasn’t anything except the sound of their heavy breathing as they both came down from their high, their heartbeats slowing in time with each other. Jemma moved first, letting go of Fitz’s back to run her fingers gently through his hair. He eventually lifted his face from her neck to root blindly until he found her lips so they could trade a few slow, lazy kisses.

“Hi,” she whispered at length.

“Hi,” Fitz whispered back. He shifted to pull out and away from her, then settled himself on his side along the bulkhead, propped up on an arm looking down at her. A small smile ticked up his lips. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

Jemma smiled back. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I think we were… quiet enough, but you just can’t tell. These bunks are frighteningly exposed.” She tutted. “I guess we’ll find out if Skye starts asking questions.”

Fitz made a face, but he almost immediately sobered, his expression turning somber as he looked down at her. “I almost lost you today,” he murmured.

A lump rose in Jemma’s throat. It was true, he had. But he also _hadn’t_ , and that was thanks to his own genius and bravery. “I know,” she whispered, and turned her face into his touch as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “But you saved me.” He started to protest and she cut in, “You did. Ward wouldn’t have had a reason to jump without you. You helped me create the antiserum. _You_ saved my life.”

He watched her for a long moment, his face half in shadow, then said quietly, “Please don’t ever do that again.”

Jemma sighed. “If it comes down to protecting you or Skye or anyone else on the team, I can’t promise I won’t sacrifice myself again—”

Fitz’s face took on a troubled look. “ _Please_.”

She stopped and gazed up at him, at the face she knew so well, the features she adored, those lips she’d now kissed. Then she sighed again. “I’ll try not to.”

“Good.” Fitz leaned down to drop soft, gentle kisses on her forehead and cheeks, down her nose. “What we just did, you know that—um, you know—well—” He leaned back. “I love you.”

He’d blurted it, his eyes wide and round, looking for all the world like he was terrified she would reject him. As if she _would_. “Fitz,” she whispered, joy spreading through her, “I—” She reached up to palm his cheek, feeling the rightness of it settle in her bones. “Of course I love you, too.”

His eyes lit up. “You do?”

“Of course,” Jemma repeated with a smile. “How could I not?”

Fitz had that look of reverent awe about him again, mixed with disbelief. “Well, it’s just—I—oh, nevermind.” He leaned down to kiss her again, lingering and sweet, and Jemma felt like the last puzzle piece of her life was clicking into place.

“Can I stay?” she asked, when Fitz pulled away.

He gave her a dubious look. “In this bed?” he asked. “It’s barely big enough for me.”

“I think we can manage,” Jemma insisted. “We managed a few times at the Academy, remember? We can do it here, too.”

“Alright,” Fitz grumbled, but there was very little heat in it. They rearranged themselves so Fitz was on his back, and Jemma stretched to turn out the lamp before pulling the blankets up over them and curling against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

“See?” Jemma whispered. “It’s nice.”

“It is nice,” Fitz agreed. A pause. “But if we get caught like this I’m still blaming you.”

Jemma muffled a laugh in his shoulder, feeling lighter than she had all day. She—they—were going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at eclecticmuses on Tumblr or Twitter to see what I'm up to next!


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